


rubicund

by incarnandine



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Autumn, Big Words (tm), Books, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Seasonal, Writing, just small drabbles, more will come as they go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-01-20 06:38:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incarnandine/pseuds/incarnandine
Summary: (adj.) Middle Englishrubicunde, from Latinrubicundus, from rubēreto be red; akin to Latinrubeus.(A series of drabbles inspired by words from all over the world; each chapter will be a separate one, all of them revolving around Kanda and Lavi, mostly with the autumnal theme.)1. psithurism (n.) the sound of the leaves rustling as the wind blows through the trees2. scripturient (adj.) having a consuming passion to write3. abibliophobia (n.) (humorous) fear of running out of things to read4. celestial (adj.) pertaining to the sky5. pulchritudinous (adj.) of a breathtaking, heartbreaking beauty6. haecceity (n.) the essence of a particular thing that gives it its unique particularity; essence of what makes it what it is (updated 12.07.2018)





	1. psithurism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **psithurism**  
>  _[english]_ (n.) the sound of the leaves rustling as the wind blows through the trees

It wasn't that Kanda in particular missed the cloudy, misty English autumn. What surprised him more was how used he got to it after years of living in the European branch, how unconsciously started treating it as the "default": to him, it seemed an absolutely natural prelude to winter, with the skies already covered in white fog, grey cobblestone fuller of rainwater puddles than floating leaves he saw, sometimes, on old paintings. Sunny days were as rare as any other part of the year - except for the humid, capricious summers, maybe, but on those, Kanda just stayed home, not bothering to go out into the sun directly.  
  
Paris took him by complete surprise - even if the cathedral destined to be their new headquarters was located in the very heart of the city, everything was just so _colorful_ it almost confused his eyes; broad streets with meticulously trimmed trees lining both sides of the pavement, rustling cafés that only calmed down in early afternoon to prepare for the night wave of guests, street stands selling all kinds of candied fruit and mulled wine, something he had seen only on festive days before.  
  
And the sun; the sun that stubbornly refused to go and die out for the winter period, tinting the atmosphere with gold tones instead.  
  
The light, the noise of busy streets, the scents of food, the trees rustling high above no matter where he went - it was all too intense for someone like him, Kanda thought.  
  
He closed his eyes, temporarily trying to shield himself - even if a little - from the overwhelming atmosphere of Paris; took a deep breath, then two-- and as he was about to continue on his way, someone grabbed his shoulder, all but thrusting a still-warm spiced apple right in his face.  
  
"Eat up, sleeping beauty," Lavi laughed, wrapping an arm around Kanda's shoulders, his own sweet treat almost gone save for the last small piece of fruit on the wooden stick. "Enjoy yourself. At least once in a while; who knows when we'll be able to have that, again." he added, smile waning just a fraction, turning into something gentler, warmer-- more real.  
  
Kanda eyed the candied fruit with suspicion. How Lavi always found the most useless things to buy around the city, he never understood. The apple was good, though, he decided after the first bite; neither overly sweet nor spicy, just as golden red as the rustling trees above them.  
  
"Now, shall we go further? The city won't discover itself, you know," the other laughed, the arm around Kanda's shoulders tightening just a little. "Come on."  
  
The red and orange leaves floating around them, Kanda concluded with a resigned sigh that maybe even _he_ could get used to it, in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part will focus only on Kanda and Lavi, all with Yuuvi undertones; I will have drabbles for other characters and pairings posted as separate works, too, if you want to check the rest out.
> 
> And as always, you can find me over at incarnandine @ tumblr!


	2. scripturient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **scripturient**  
>  _[english]_ (adj.) having a consuming passion to write

It was natural to him by now; collecting pieces and bits of information here and there, constructing entire stories of ages past just with snippets of old writings, of chronicles in languages long forgotten. Entire days, sometimes, holed up in the cathedral library - the outside world completely abandoned as he set down to compile, compare, discover and rewrite.

Such was the life of a Bookman.

Or so they thought; and Lavi just laughed, because _what’s in a name?_ ; did they all think it was that simple? After all, reconstruction and rewriting of past events was only part of his destiny - the most important was to live here and now, to register in meticulous detail everything that passed and was about to pass. History was but a canvas; a guidebook of sorts to pay care to, if only not to let the same mistakes repeat: as important as it was unchangeable.

Changing the here and now was, however, forbidden.

And so, he watched: listened, touched and tasted life in all it’s forms, shapes, colours and textures– and then, as night fell, he sat down by candlelight, and let the words flow. From the simplest event to the harshest war, from a tiny, yellowing maple leaf to the unavoidable tragedies: he described it all, as much per vocation as per personal pleasure taken in reliving all those emotions that would not make it into ink, lest the record be not impartial.

Such was the life of a Bookman, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part will focus only on Kanda and Lavi, all with Yuuvi undertones; I will have drabbles for other characters and pairings posted as separate works, too, if you want to check the rest out.
> 
> And as always, you can find me over at [incarnandine](http://incarnandine.tumblr.com) @ tumblr!


	3. abibliophobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **abibliophobia**  
>  _(n.)_ (humorous) fear of running out of things to read

Lavi hated the open sea.  
  
Absolutely, honestly hated it.  
  
It's not even that he was seasick, or didn't like water; water was fine, and the static, rhytmic movements of the boat didn't disturb him all that much.   
  
What was the most disastrous in any travel by sea was the fact that it was always tremendously long and, most of the time, with no land in sight: that meant, of course, that any leisure options were very limited even on a, theoretically speaking, very good ship.  
  
He tapped a finger nervously against a page of the book he was holding, folding and unfolding the thin sheet of paper with a mildly annoyed look on his face. Three more days, the captain said; three more days meant roughly six hundred pages if he was being really slow about it and--  
  
"What's gotten into you," Kanda sighed and leaned against the railing, signaling his presence with a small kick to one of the legs of Lavi's chair. The implications of annoyance and worry were clear in his voice, but as he added nothing more, Lavi didn't feel inclined to converse that much.   
  
"Oi. Rabbit." He tapped the chair with the toe of his boot again, impatient. "The hell's up with you these days?"  
  
Lavi took a deep breath.  
  
"You-- you just wouldn't understand," he tried to be calm as he finally spoke. "This is the last volume of that novel. The _last_ , Yuu. And it's over in less than a hundred pages. We have roughly six hundred pages' worth of travel, and in these circumstances I'm going to die of boredom before we even reach the port," the redhead sighed wistfully. "I. Will be. Bored. To death."  
  
Kanda just blinked.  
  
"Don't you have three more with you?" his eyes narrowed quizzically as he quite well remembered the frantic packing of Lavi's travel bag and the amounts of paper stuffed into it in a hurry.  
  
"One is a notebook and the two others are meant to last me for the trip back." Lavi pocketed the book he was currently holding and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. When he looked at Kanda again, his face reminded the other exorcist of a kicked bunny.  
  
"You're heartless, Yuu," he added for good measure, then put his palms back into the pockets of his jacket and turned away, disheartened, in the general direction of his cabin.  
  
Trusted companions, indeed.


	4. celestial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**celestial**_ [adj.] pertaining to the sky
> 
> A gift for the wonderful [Crouleek](http://crouleek.tumblr.com) with whom i had the pleasure to go to a planetarium last week, which in turn inspired this drabble!

There was something soothing, Yuu thought, in looking at the night sky. It was solid and unchanging; qualities he appreciated a lot. In the daily life of an Exorcist, it was not an easy thing to find: and yet, the rare mission that did not involve towns, villages, or lodgings of any kind, gave him the possibility to just go out and spend time with himself.

The sky used to be a rare sight back in the times of the laboratory: there was, however, an abundance of scientific texts to which Alma had quickly taken thanks to his innate curiosity regarding everything. Among those, a map of the constellations established in times past; and just like kids do, they took turns memorizing them, in hopes of being able to see any of them on the real sky in the future.

And here he was; no Alma, no old maps of the sky nor ancient texts - but the stars remained, quietly keeping watch over everything that was left of his world.

His eyes skimmed over the distant lights as he tried to memorize their names, the stories connected to each of them. There, to the west, stood proud Orion with a belt of three stars aligned ( _this is seriously creepy, Yuu_ , Alma’s voice in his head chimed; _it can’t be natural for three spots in the sky to be in such a neat line one after another_ ), his faithful Dog always ready at his ankle; above his head, the proud Bull, to his left the always playful Twins, and he remembered himself and Alma claiming those as _their_ stars, but how long ago was it now?

A shuffle of grass next to him ripped him away from the impending thoughts; he did his best, however, to ignore it, turning his attention back to the constellations.

Stupid Rabbit.

“Hare, actually,” Lavi’s playful voice supplied as he sat down next to Kanda, bright orange scarf wrapped closely around his neck several times. “The one hunted by the guy with the belt and his puppy companion. Poor fellow; if it were me, I’d jump all over to the other side of the sky to avoid him as soon as I had the chance,” he laughed, reaching a hand as if to affectionately pat Kanda’s hair - but withdrew it at the last moment, almost shameful.

“There is a rabbit up there if you’re so set on it, though,” he continued, pulling his knees up all the way to his chin in a childish gesture as he settled next to Kanda. “On the moon. Isn’t that the legend from where you came from?” he grinned, pointing a gloved finger to the moon already low on the horizon.

Kanda just grunted noncommitally.

“See the darker spots? That’s the body, the paws, the ears. And look, he’s holding a mortar and pestle,” Lavi continued quietly, one visible eye squinting to let him see the bright object better even despite the darkness. “According to the story, he’s pounding either a magical elixir of life, or a plain boring bowl of rice batter. It could be magical rice, though; you never know.”

“Yeah, sure.” Yuu rolled his eyes and sent him a wry smile.

Lavi just smiled back, unreasonably sunny and happy in Kanda’s opinion, and raised his eyes to the sky.

“So, which story did we leave off at again?”


	5. pulchritudinous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **pulchritudinous** (adj.) _of a breathtaking, heartbreaking beauty._
> 
> Lavi tries not to look at Kanda too much, but one time, he fails.

It's always the small, unexpected moments.

It's always when he's not paying full attention: when he lets the mask slip for a split second, when he lets his eyes drift to his left, that's when Kanda's beauty catches him unawares.

(Kanda always walks to his left.

Lavi always does his best to avoid looking at him more than necessary: therefore, he does not look much to the left, when they walk together.

It's hard when the left eye is the one he keeps uncovered; but Lavi had always had eyes just for Kanda, did he not?)

It's a perfectly orchestrated performance; his gaze drifts everywhere around them, catches on instances of streetlights from coffee houses and small restaurants that just begin to open after their midday break. The air is chilly in early spring, tinted with shades of pale lilac of the dusk and gold of the warm, welcoming windows on both sides of the paved street. Lavi keeps his gaze roaming, points out little insignificant details, fleeting words more for his own comfort than for any real reply; Kanda seems to know that, offering some noncommital grunts in response every now and often.

But oh, amidst all the chatter and the silence, there is a flash of yellow light on their left as a streetlamp suddenly goes on, and it draws Lavi's attention - and he sees that light, yes, the light which haloes around Kanda's dark hair, painting him in shades of soft gold and misty lilac, sketching out long lashes against prominent cheekbones.

It would be wise to turn away.

Lavi's caught somewhere between the line of Kanda's nose and the contour of his lips - he always assumed them to be thin, because he never _l_ _ooked,_ but the trick of the golden light makes them seem somehow fuller - and he's falling, falling, falling; in his peripheral vision the blue-violet of Kanda's eyes (the gold and the lilac of the air, and the red ornaments of both his coat and the café behind him, and the green and orange of a restaurant next to it) calls for his attention, too, but to catch his gaze now would mean he'd lose completely.

It would be wise to turn away: so he does, his head darting up to see more of the streetlights come on, one, two, three now to the right; did Yuu know that the ends of his bangs curl against his temples like this, he thinks--

"Did you know this café has been here since before the Revolution?" he asks, voice airy as the cold breeze around them, and he points out the sign, gesticulates broadly--

to keep his hands still around Yuu would be silly, because there, this strand of hair catches up on his lip with the wind and Lavi would not dare, of course, to brush it away--

so he's all about movement, a cheery spring in his step, offering a myriad of words and ideas in which he can hide the silence somehow, and then, in all of the unfairness of the world, Kanda stops, and Lavi's heart stops with him.

One--

two,

three.

(Who said Bookmen had no hearts? Stupid, filthy liars; Lavi would rip out his own this very second would that mean he'd stop feeling _this_ somehow.)

"Over there," Kanda says in that soft, monotone voice of his, as a sharp movement of his head indicates a back alley and the silver of his sword glints dangerously in the soft gold hues overhead.

Lavi's painfully reminded that it is, still, a mission they're on; he's aware of the air crashing back into his lungs and just like that, the moment disappears and he can breathe, finally, again.

He takes great care not to look to the left.


End file.
